


Coffee with Air Quotes

by morelikeassassin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Jon can be ace and still know when he's being hit on, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,081
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27355564
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morelikeassassin/pseuds/morelikeassassin
Summary: Consider a dilemma: Is it more embarrassing to invite someone in for a "cup of coffee", only to discover that they didn't realize exactly what you were asking? Or to ask outright without any innuendo at all? Does it matter if the answer is the same either way?
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 14
Kudos: 301
Collections: Repulsed/Averse Ace Jon Archivist





	Coffee with Air Quotes

**Author's Note:**

> If this looks different from how you remember it on Tumblr, it's because I couldn't figure out how many people had actually heard of the whole "cup of coffee" joke. I know factually that it was just the 90's-early 2000's equivalent to Netflix and chill, but the second I picture it actually being used it turns into a scene from a noir detective film. Imagine yourself some jazzy saxophone music in the background if it helps.

“You really didn’t need to walk with me all the way,” Martin insisted. This was the third time he’d said it on the way back to his apartment, and by this point he was more pleased than embarrassed. He couldn’t quite manage to keep it out of his voice. Part of him did feel guilty for enjoying the attention, not least of all because it was from Jon.

“If it makes you feel any better, we can say it’s as much for my peace of mind as for your own safety,” said Jon. He trailed slightly behind Martin, staring a little too long at each alleyway and particularly dark shadow that they passed. “Can’t be too careful these days.”

“What about you?” asked Martin, turning to look at him as they walked. “Who’s going to get you home safe?”

Jon smirked. “I’ll be fine, Martin. And I’m sure that rescuing me will be a good team-building exercise.”

The idea made Martin’s heart race, for several reasons. He slowed to walk closer to Jon, as if worried that some unforeseen danger might descend upon him right then and there. “That’s not funny,” he said softly. “You know I wouldn’t let that happen.”

Jon looked up, startled. Their eyes met, and as much as Martin wanted to look away and mutter a thousand little excuses and apologies, he just couldn’t bring himself to do it this time. The depth of Jon’s gaze seemed to go on forever, cold and bright against the nighttime around them. It shone like stars in the darkness. Martin had always loved Jon’s eyes, and he couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so lost in them.

“I mean-” Martin said hastily, “Y-you’re really, really important. To the archive. I know Elias is the boss on paper, but I- The whole place would fall apart without you. Literally, I think someone might come and set it on fire.”

“I can think of worse things,” said Jon. He hadn’t looked away. Martin didn’t know what that meant. Panic fluttered in his chest. They were very close to his apartment; surely he should check to see if they were going to miss the address, or make sure he wouldn’t trip over something. He did not.

“Losing you would be worse,” said Martin.

Something shifted in Jon’s expression. The careful guardedness Martin had grown accustomed to started to fade. It wasn’t a smile, exactly. He looked tired - he always looked tired - but for a moment, he also looked like he might be willing to rest. As though he felt safe to do so.

“That’s very kind of you to say,” Jon murmured. He slowed to a stop, and finally looked to the building they’d come to. While he wasn’t watching, Martin screwed his eyes shut momentarily, reeling from the exchange. “I believe this one’s yours.”

“Right,” said Martin, “Right.” He hurried up the steps and turned around to see Jon staring after him with that same soft expression. Already, it was starting to disappear as Jon prepared himself for the long walk back to his car. _Alone_ , Martin thought to himself, _In the dark. To his flat, where he’ll still be alone, in the dark._

Perhaps Martin should have been paying more attention to his own expression. Jon sensed the words that were just barely trapped in Martin’s throat, and frowned slightly. “Everything alright?”

Martin shuddered as his voice came free of its own accord. “Do you want to come in for coffee?” he asked.

Saying it out loud so suddenly made him want to turn around and slam his hand in the door. At least it would change the subject. He wasn’t the type to use cheesy pickup lines. Not unless it was to get a laugh, and _certainly_ not on Jon. It was so stupid, exactly the kind of forced innuendo that he found himself complaining about whenever he got the chance. Which, unfortunately, was enough fixation to make it stick in his mind.

(“Coffee, Mr Blackwood?” Jon would absolutely never say, arching an eyebrow. “But it’s so very late. I’d only want coffee if there was something I intended to stay up doing.”)

The image of this scene playing out the rest of the way settled halfway between a quiet, inside joke with himself, and a fascination that kept him very warm at night. The actuality of it made him so embarrassed that he thought he might evaporate right there in the street. Jon looked surprised, maybe, but not upset, or offended, nor any of the other unpleasant things Martin assumed he’d be.

“I’m not really a fan of coffee,” said Jon.

 _Of course_ , thought Martin. He was overcome with both an immense feeling of relief and of disappointment. _Of course, he wouldn’t even think of that. Not with me._

“Right, well,” said Martin, fumbling for his keys, “I’ll see you at work!”

“No, Martin,” said Jon, “I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. It’s not you. I just don’t like _coffee_.”

Martin stopped. “Oh.” That took him a second to parse. Maybe Jon understood even better than Martin did. “ _Oh!_ ”

“And it’s none of my business to begin with,” said Jon slowly, looking a bit guilty as he realized that he’d compelled an answer out of Martin. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

“No, it’s fine!” said Martin. In spite of everything, it was. “I, uh- I have tea, we could have tea, if you’d like. Maybe some leftovers, you said you hadn’t eaten?”

Judging from the confusion on his face, Jon seemed to have lost track of what they were dancing around if not “coffee” any longer. Frankly, Martin had, too. “Er… I suppose so?” Jon said.

“What I mean is, I can do without coffee,” Martin clarified. “If you do want to come in.”

The absurdity of the whole thing came down around them, and Jon smiled, and so did Martin. For the span of an evening they were both so, so ready to pretend that everything was okay, and that it would continue to be okay in the morning. Martin didn’t remember which cabinet his little Italian espresso machine was in, but he knew where the spare sheets were for the pullout bed under the couch. And if Jon happened to be more in the mood for takeaway than tea, well, then his own bed had plenty of room for two.

“Tea would be lovely,” said Jon, advancing up the stairs after him.


End file.
